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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794716">Some People Deal With Trauma Better Than Others, But That Doesn't Make It Okay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemWrites/pseuds/RemWrites'>RemWrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>October 2020 Spooks [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gintama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gintoki Is Trying His Best, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Minor Injuries, Otose Is Mom, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, he'll be okay, hopeful end</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:02:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemWrites/pseuds/RemWrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On his way out of the house after a terrible night, Gintoki is caught by Otose.</p><p>Otose knows he'll always be okay. She just needs to make sure Gintoki is taken care of and that he knows he'll be okay too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>October 2020 Spooks [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Some People Deal With Trauma Better Than Others, But That Doesn't Make It Okay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Day 5: Restrained/Bondage</p><p>Better posting months late than never, right?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gintoki scrubbed at his mouth vigorously, pressing hard enough that the little bristles on the toothbrush scratched painfully against his gums. The mint flavor wasn't doing much to mask that taste lingering at the back of his throat, his eyes closed as he tried to ignore it and scrub some more. Surely, the third time was the charm, right? This was the third time he had brushed his teeth since he had gotten home from his oh-so terrible drinking night, so surely this time, the taste would go away?</p><p>No. The froth in his mouth suddenly became too much and Gintoki gagged. He leaned over the sink to spit, white-knuckling the edge, gagging immediately after the toothpaste was out of his mouth. And from there it was a battle to keep his stomach contents rightfully where they were supposed to be – what was left of them anyway – a battle he quickly lost as he vomited up bile and stomach acid.</p><p>Gintoki heaved as he gagged a few more times – for good measure, he supposed – his stomach settling now that it was empty. Again. He righted himself from his hunched posture over the sink, eyes cast down to the contents clogging the drain. He stared for a moment, mind going blank. Trying not to replay the past few hours over in his mind.</p><p>His day had been shit to begin with. He'd woken up hung-over. Hit a hammer off his thumb two hours later, fell through a roof and ripped his yukata, lost his pay, got robbed at pachinko, and then drinking had been a nightmare. The one thing that should have made everything feel momentarily better had also gone horrendously wrong.</p><p>The knock at the washroom door made him jump, head whipping to the locked handle like it was about to turn open. He put a hand to his face on instinct, to try and hide the worst of the wounds, just in case Kagura somehow managed to barge in. Not that hiding it was possible. And not that he was glossing it over and making it all sound funnier than it actually was.</p><p>“Gin-chan? You sick and dying?” Kagura called from the other side of the door. He could hear her yawn, her voice casual. He wondered briefly if he had woken her up. But the fact that she was checking in on him at all told him she was concerned.</p><p>Of course. The one time she <em>should</em> be concerned but he didn't want her to be, and there she was, calling his name.</p><p>Gintoki licked his split bottom lip as he removed his hand from his face, gripping the counter instead. Forced his voice out past his raw throat. “Yeah. Gin-chan drank too much again.”</p><p>“Stupid.” Kagura said, unimpressed. “Well stop puking so loud, you woke me up.” And with that, Gintoki heard her amble away, heels heavy on the wooden floorboards as she headed back for her closet.</p><p>Gintoki took in a deep breath, eyes closed. He wished it was that simple. He wished he had drunk more than two cups before he had found himself waking up in a stranger's bedroom, four less-than-attractive middle-aged men struggling to hold him down.</p><p>When Gintoki was ready, he opened his tired eyes again, gaze flickering to the mirror to check out the damage to his face.</p><p>There was blood at his temple, from being clocked with a scabbard when he had almost escaped the first time. His lip was split straight down the middle from a slap that had practically been a punch, blood still trailing from it because it kept splitting back open every time he grimaced. Both sides of his jaw were colored a flaming shade of red that would soon turn purple, a spot on his cheek from a thumb that had pressed too hard when they pried open his mouth-</p><p>Gintoki hurled again, not much coming back up except for that taste. He panted into the sink for a moment, eyes closed. Oh. It had been a terrible night. Placing a hand over his eyes he took another shaky breath, trying to reign in the fluttering in his chest, the shake in his hands. There were bruises and cuts around his wrists from expertly tied rope that had managed to keep him down for a good hour. Handprints were clear on his forearms, phantom touches everywhere else. They had done their best to restrain him, but in the end, it hadn't been enough.</p><p>He had beat the men to a pulp after. All four of them. Every hand that had touched him had been broken, teeth smashed out of the mouths that had bit. The legs that had straddled had been next, knees broken beneath his bokuto, and Gintoki doubted any of them would be capable of reproducing again.</p><p>There was no reason for Gintoki to be so shaken. He had broken almost every bone in his body at least once, had been stabbed, shot, beat; been through worse. He briefly thought back to when he had been imprisoned after the war, and a few certain incidents that had happened during his stay. Immediately shoved it back into the little box of trauma at the back of his mind.</p><p>He was no stranger to rape.</p><p>Things like <em>this</em> could happen to anyone. Next time, he just had to keep a closer eye on his drinks. Next time – there wouldn't be a next time.</p><p>He was still heaving when he sunk slowly to the floor, tired and sore and bleeding. His breath was still shaky as he held his face in his hands, his eyes dry but his chest quivering. His mind was telling him that this was different. That this was somehow worse because we wasn't caged and they hadn't been asking him for information. That they had done this for sport.</p><p>It was okay. He would be okay. And that was all that mattered.</p><p>–</p><p>He woke up on the washroom floor.</p><p>With a low moan he rolled over onto his belly, his body sorer than it had been the night before. Sleeping on linoleum had probably made everything worse, and Gintoki quickly cursed himself for laying down in such a terrible spot. Slowly, he rolled onto his hands and knees, picking himself up from the washroom floor.</p><p>Without looking in the mirror, Gintoki unlocked the door, slipping out. It was still early. There was an orange glowing filtering into his house suggesting the crack of dawn as he sauntered silently across his own floorboards. He snuck past Sadaharu sleeping in front of the closet, guarding Kagura. He disappeared into his bedroom to get changed into fresh clothes, hoping they would make him feel better. Hoping somehow, this would all hurt less.</p><p>He wiped his face off on his shirt, crusted blood coming off in gross flakes, before changing into a fresh one with long sleeves to hide the unsavory marks. Already he felt better, discarding his pants and boxers without looking too closely at them and stepping into new ones. The pro to black clothing was stains were easy to hide, even if the color faded into grey if it wasn't washed properly. Minor details.</p><p>But his yukata was covered in blood that had dried overnight. Gintoki doubted he would be able to cover it up or even explain it, given <em>where</em> some of the blood was. Scowling, Gintoki felt the break in his lip pull back open, a fresh sting reminding him of his split lip. Cursing, he grabbed his bokuto and a blue yukata out of his closet, and silently fled back to the washroom.</p><p>He washed his face with cold water – never too much over his nose – and ran wet fingers through his hair, tousling his curls and overall feeling a bit more clean. He wiped behind his ears with a damp cloth and then used the other side of it to press against his lip until it finally stopped bleeding.</p><p>He felt better. Sore, but better. Tossing the cloth into the laundry bin pressed into the corner of the room, he tied his fresh yukata in the usual fashion and slipped his bokuto through his belt. With his hands on his hips, he turned back to the mirror and exhaled.</p><p>Better. Much better. Except his face looked worse than it had the night before. The bruises had turned black and were standing out against pale skin, the bags under his eyes more prominent than they had been in a while. Gintoki didn't really mind the bags too much. They were easy to excuse. The bruises on his face? Well, he got in a bar fight last night, he could say, while excusing his aches and pains as a general hangover, giving him a chance to laze around all day and recover.</p><p>And his forearms? There were simple fixes for that, easy ways to hide it, except he already <em>knew</em> his medical kit was mostly empty, because he had been the last one to use it last. There were no bandages to wrap his arms in, so, if he wanted to keep the handprints from prying eyes, then he was going to have to go out. And Gintoki was dedicated to keeping his more sensitive problems to himself. So. He would go.</p><p>Some pain killers would be nice too.</p><p>He left then. At the crack of dawn, he took the front stairs slowly, being extra quiet even though he knew Kagura would easily sleep in until ten in the morning, and that the old woman downstairs had just gone to bed after a long night of working. The pharmacy three blocks away was one of those ones that was open all day and night for thugs and taxpayers alike, so he could get his things and get home before anyone even noticed anything was amiss.</p><p>But of course, nothing was ever easy in Sakata Gintoki's life.</p><p>With one foot on the solid ground below his staircase, the world seemed to give way beneath him when the front door to Snack Otose suddenly opened noisily, the old woman herself emerging from within. Frozen like Gintoki had broken the clock for time itself, Gintoki gasped quietly, rooted where he stood, one foot still on his step. He wished the ground would just swallow him whole. He watched with attentive eyes as Otose closed the door behind her, the old woman glancing over her shoulder Gintoki's way. She looked him up suspiciously.</p><p>“You're leaving early.” She said casually, her eyes flickering down to Gintoki's stance, how one foot was on the staircase and the other was not. He already felt caught like a kid trying to dodge curfew.</p><p>Gintoki automatically started to move again. He floated off the stairs, his eyes glancing down the street, his plan of action simple: just walk past her. He had somewhere to be, and if he stated that, she might just let him walk by. Maybe.</p><p>Probably not.</p><p>“I have a nasty hangover, so I'm going to the store.” Gintoki said, waving his hand to try and play off whatever it was that Otose was thinking.</p><p>“You had something nasty, that's for sure.” Otose said as she fiddled with her pack of cigarettes. She pulled one out just as Gintoki walked by her, her eyes lingering and burning holes into the back of his head. “Your medical kit empty or something?”</p><p>“Hah? Didn't I just say that?” Gintoki groaned as he stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I have nothing to ease this headache so I'm going to the store.”</p><p>Otose clicked her tongue, putting her unlit cigarette back into the carton. She nodded her head towards her front door, her tone more instructing than asking. “Come inside.”</p><p>It was warm inside. Tama was scrubbing at the tables still with a lemon smelling cleaner, the robot in no need of sleep. Gintoki shoved his hands into his yukata as he closed the door behind him, grumbling about it the whole time. He didn't know why he always listened to the older woman, didn't know why he felt so guilty that he was trying to sneak around under her nose. His injuries weren't her business, after all.</p><p>He still felt bad about hiding it, though. <em>It's a lose-lose situation.</em></p><p>“Welcome, Gintoki-sama!” Tama said excitedly. She stood up from the table, turning towards Gintoki, her eyes whirring as the camera lenses in her pupils constricted, focusing on Gintoki and Gintoki alone. Her eyes shifted up and down, no doubt analyzing him in detail. “Gintoki-sama, are you-”</p><p>“Eh, you're doing a good job cleaning. If you hurry up, you might be finished in time to play with the kids down the block before the brats have to go to school.” Gintoki interrupted her before she could say anything. He waved over his shoulder as he quickly passed her by, disappearing into Otose's living quarters behind the bar as fast as he could.</p><p>Otose went straight into her bedroom, leaving the door open behind her. Awkwardly, Gintoki lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame to watch the old woman dig through her closet, pulling out a large duffel bag Gintoki was unfortunately familiar with. Gintoki didn't say anything as Otose lugged it out, pushing it across the floor. She sat on her heels then, stern but tired eyes turning up to Gintoki and locking on his face.</p><p>“Come and sit.” She said. She turned back to the bag, opening it up. The zipper echoed ominously in the room.</p><p>Gintoki hesitated, his eyes lowering as he moved from the doorway. He carefully sat down in front of Otose, his expression schooled into his usual slack look. There was no indication that he was in pain, no indication that he was uncomfortable in any way.</p><p>From the bag, Otose pulled out a bottle of pain killers. She handed the bottle over silently before continuing to dig through the bag's contents. Gintoki took the opportunity to shake out a couple of pills before sliding the bottle back towards the old woman.</p><p>“I need water.” Gintoki said, taking the opportunity to excuse himself. He knew Otose let him flee the bedroom back to the bar, knew that if she wanted him to stay she would have told him to stay put and he would have listened. He hated that he was so obedient to her sometimes, but he never regretted his loyalty.</p><p>In the bar, Gintoki shakily filled a glass with lukewarm water before popping back the two pills. He closed his eyes as he finished the glass, his stomach tight, and his thoughts spinning.</p><p>“Gintoki-sama.” Tama said quietly. He hated how concerned she sounded, hated that she had been learning to nuance her voice, learning to sound worried when she felt worried. He wished she had been blunt and robotic, but he also would never deny her the character development she deserved.</p><p>When Gintoki glanced over his shoulder at her, she was standing on the other side of the bar still, her washcloth in her hands. Gintoki didn't respond. He turned away so he could place his glass into the sink and maybe flee before Otose came back out to get him.</p><p>“Gintoki-sama, we're here for you no matter what.” Tama said, her monotone voice offsetting the delicacy of her words. In a way, Gintoki found it was nice. “I know you want to run away, but you need to let us protect you too, sometimes. It's okay to ask for help.”</p><p>Gintoki grit his teeth. He didn't move, eyes closing again as he tried to get his bearings, tried not to let those words sink too far in and <em>hurt him</em>. <em>So what? </em><em>I </em><em>got hunted down for sport </em><em>on my own playing field</em><em>. So what?</em></p><p>He moved then, stilted but functioning. Otose had always told him when he was younger not to be rude, and there was something about being rude to Tama that always left Gintoki with a sour taste in his mouth. He turned towards Tama, confliction, and some warm, unexplainable emotion welling up in his chest. He kept his gaze level with hers, his heart rate picking up as he opened his mouth.</p><p>“Thank you.” Was all he managed to say. He turned away from her, skulking back to Otose like he hadn't said anything at all.</p><p>“I thought you were going to leave.” Otose said. She said it like a joke, but she was serious. They both knew Gintoki had thought about it. “Let me at least clean your face. You never do a good job.”</p><p>“I did a fine job.” Gintoki complained as he sat down in front of her again. She had everything she needed already out of the bag, had a cotton swab doused in alcohol ready to go. Gintoki sighed, ready to just get this over with. <em>At least I didn't have to walk all the way to the store.</em></p><p>“You didn't do a good job at all.” Otose complained. “You never do.”</p><p>“I do.” Gintoki grumbled. He winced when she placed the swab against the corner of his lip, dabbing gently at the open wound that kept splitting back open.</p><p>They sat in silence as Otose dabbed at Gintoki's face. Gintoki closed his eyes, let her take care of him because deep down he knew she was right. He had washed his face and called it a day, after all.</p><p>They didn't speak until Otose set everything down and gently grasped Gintoki's wrists from where he was hiding them against his body, pulling them into view and rotating them upright. Gintoki glanced down to them, his eyes lingering on the nasty marks from the rope, wondering if Otose knew what she was looking at, wondered if she would let him go and wash her hands after to scrub away the contamination from her own skin.</p><p>Gintoki gently took a calming breath, tried not to give away his disgust with what had happened to him.</p><p>She let him go, but she didn't get up from the floor. Instead, she grabbed a new cotton ball and doused it in alcohol. Gintoki didn't move, momentarily confused by the action. She knew what was wrong with his wrists, right?</p><p>“When I first took you in, you got really sick.” Otose suddenly said, her eyes turning to Gintoki's arms and dabbing at the wounds. Gintoki hissed at the contact but kept his mouth shut. It had sounded like a rhetorical question anyway.</p><p>“You had a fever for the first week. I couldn't get you to keep any food or liquid down, and some of your wounds were infected, so I called a friend of mine to come and look at you. He was a retired doctor, still did house-calls, that idiot. That man worked until he died a few years ago.” Otose said off-handed, dabbing at the marks on Gintoki's wrists. Gintoki's lip pulled in the corner, not really remembering anything Otose was telling him. He was torn between being glad he didn't remember and a little anxious that Otose was bringing up a story he couldn't recollect.</p><p>“Do you remember?” Otose asked him after a moment of silence, pausing when she glanced up at him.</p><p>Gintoki narrowed his eyes, his tone turning playful despite the way his heart fluttered in his chest. “Is this a trick question, old lady? That was ages ago. I was practically a baby.”</p><p>“You were a baby, and sometimes you still are. Obviously, this story has a happy ending.” Otose said with a chuckle, glancing up with a little smile. “You're the main character and you're still alive with all your limbs working properly, so you know this story ends well. But at the time, I wasn't so sure.”</p><p>Gintoki didn't say anything as Otose picked up a tube of cream next, his nose wrinkling at the smell the second she popped the cap open.</p><p>“Nothing life-changing happened, to be honest. As it turned out, I was just excessively worrying.” Otose said, smearing a small glob of the cream on the inside of Gintoki's bruised forearms. She used a q-tip to spread it over his open wounds. “My friend came, he saw, he treated you, and a couple of weeks later you were recovered and eager enough to trip going up the stairs and sprain your wrist on the fall down.”</p><p>Gintoki snorted because he did remember <em>that.</em> Otose had told him to take it easy, and to prove that he was fine and didn't need to be careful, he had tried to ascend the stairs like a regular human being. His legs, weak from being sick and general disuse from <em>before</em> Otose had found him on that gravestone, had given out underneath him and he had tumbled back down the five or six steps. He hadn't cried out when his wrist twisted awkwardly beneath his own weight, but he had rolled over onto his back in the dirt and fixed his bleary puppy-eyes on Otose, holding the pained limb out to her. It had been pathetic, but at the time he had been so troubled, so overwhelmed, and Otose had been his rock.</p><p>His only rock to ground him.</p><p>“So what was the point of the story?” Gintoki asked carefully, his eyes on her old hands as they gently smoothed the ointment over his inflamed skin.</p><p>“The point is that nothing life-changing happened after. You just got up and went on as if nothing had ever gone wrong.” Otose said. She started to wrap Gintoki's wrists and forearms, slow and methodical, making sure the bandages were even. “You had wounds exactly like these.”</p><p>Gintoki's heart sank. He almost pulled back, fear and shame that she <em>knew</em> leaving him a cold, breathless mess for a moment.</p><p>“But lucky for you, I know what I'm doing.” Otose said. “I never have to worry that I'll catch you looking for scars, and I know there won't be any this time either.”</p><p>Gintoki's eyebrows furrowed at that, his eyes glancing up to Otose. But she wasn't looking at him, and she wasn't frowning either. She was smiling.</p><p>“What's your point?” Gintoki asked. He didn't take his eyes off her.</p><p>Otose glanced up when she finished wrapping, her warm hands still enclosed around his forearm. She patted his arm, her smile still warm. “My point is that you worry too much about other people and not enough about yourself. Which, don't get me wrong, is a flaw, but at least I know you'll be fine next week. Something like this has never held you back and I don't think it will start now. You're too durable for your own good.”</p><p>Gintoki's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but afterward, he snorted at her words. “You're not wrong.”</p><p>Her smile turned sad, a hand reaching out for Gintoki's cheek. “Please consider my stress-levels and take care of yourself? If you need anything, you know I'll be right here and you <em>know</em> you should come. I know that you won't ask, but...”</p><p>Gintoki was speechless for a moment, eyes locked on the gentle browns of the woman who had taken him in, his multitude of baggage and dumb choices along with him. She had been firm with him but never controlling or abusive, had been just as loving in that careful, distanced way, just like Shouyou had. While her blatant displays of affection had been rare, they had always hit Gintoki's heart the hardest when the love and concern had been physically shown. The hand on his cheek suddenly burned just like the backs of his eyes. He hadn't deserved what had happened to him, and he didn't have to feel the shame that was eating at him. He knew what she was trying to say, knew she had always felt like Gintoki deserved a good life. She never would have taken him in, otherwise. He might get knocked down, but they both knew he would always get back up again.</p><p>But most importantly, he didn't have to let it break him either.</p><p>Gintoki huffed, turning away from her hand, from the rare contact that left him confused and shy, eyes closing gently. He could only whisper. “Don't be an old sap.”</p><p>When he went back upstairs with the painkillers hidden into his sleeve, he found himself smiling softly. Sadly. He might not be able to reach out for help, but that didn't mean he couldn't let others help him when they knew he needed it.</p><p>He'd be okay. He always was.</p>
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